


art de l'amour

by miraculous-chatinette (Amiria_Raven)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, FLUFFY NSFW, Fluffy, NSFW, first ml nsfw, more of an implication than anything really, nsfw-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 07:13:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7425136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amiria_Raven/pseuds/miraculous-chatinette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew her body almost as well as he knew his own. He knew the stories patterned on her skin, knew the artworks scattered across her flesh like the back of his hand. And he knew where her triggers were, how to work her up and how to tease her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	art de l'amour

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first nsfw for this fandom SO SUE ME.
> 
> Anyway, it's a drabble to try to get a feel for it, so just let me know what you think.

Making love to Marinette was an art.

The contours of her body, which had once been sharp angles and puberty, were now blessed by the supple curves of womanhood. He could run his fingers across her skin for hours, reveling in the beauty of the scars that crisscrossed her form.

Scars told stories, and all of hers were fairy tales come true.

Each scar was a recording of a life she had saved, and that in itself was beauty. She had protected a gift so precious, and the memories were etched into her skin. Each story was an artwork just waiting to show itself to the world...but they were his to explore, and his alone. These invisible words, these abstract paintings that laced her flesh merely served as charms to amplify his love, his admiration, for the divine goddess beneath him.

Light freckles dusted her skin, but beneath them the soft pink flush of desire shined.

As he caressed her hip, lightly running his fingers along the curve of her waist, a soft sigh passed softer lips. Her blue eyes looked up at him, simmering so that he was drowning in the cool ocean, suffocating in the warm sea breeze, and he fell.

His lips crashed into hers with an intensity that belied the gentle touch of his hand, and her delicate fingers clutched at him, one threading through his blond locks and the other tracing patterns on the skin of his back. Where her fingers roamed, they left a trail of molten lava, burning his skin with passion and lust and love.

Her knee pressed lightly against his bare hip, and the fire coursing through his veins burned even hotter. As his tongue tangled with hers, he tasted the heat of her, the temperature of her mouth hotter than anything else. He was being pulled in, and he didn’t dare oppose.

Marinette’s body was a sanctuary.

It was a place he came home to, a place he always felt safe, a place he knew no one else could desecrate.

As his lips trailed down the side of her pale, slender neck, another soft sigh came from her plump, ravished mouth. Her fingernails lightly skated across his shoulder blades as he moved downward, pausing momentarily to caress her earlobe with his lips, his teeth, his tongue. Butterfly kisses across her shoulders followed, and then he nipped softly at the skin of her collarbone, eliciting a gasp from the divine entity below.

“Adrien,” her breath rushed out in a single word, and he bit down.

He knew her body almost as well as he knew his own. He knew the stories patterned on her skin, knew the artworks scattered across her flesh like the back of his hand. And he knew where her triggers were, how to work her up and how to tease her.

His hands trailed up her sides, lightly brushing her breasts as he lightly kissed her newly bruised skin. When he brushed a thumb across her taut, pink nipple, a whine sounded from the back of her throat. He repeated the motion as he kissed down her chest, featherlight brushes that were sensual and teasing, and he felt her wriggle beneath him.

When his hot lips attached to her breast, he felt her arch beneath him, pushing her chest farther into him. He hummed, enjoying the keening mewl that she muffled as he continued his ministrations. One hand trailed ever lower, caressing each and every inch of skin he could reach. His fingers ghosted across her abdomen, her hips, her waist, until finally his thumb teased her inner thigh.

Her breath hitched in her throat and and she breathed his name again.

Her soft moans filled the air, and her fingers clutched his hair as his tongue swirled around her nipple. His fingers trailed to the spots he knew well, and the pitch of her voice changed as he smirked against her chest.

Making love to Marinette was an art, and he’d become an artist.


End file.
